Time To Dance: Happiness Is A Warm Gun Trilogy
by Hikari Daeron
Summary: Jolene Nicholson's in love... with Fred Weasley. But how will he be affected by the lass who's got a past mauled by tradgey? Can he care for someone who can't care for herself? YEAH! With a little help from churros and tacos, their relationship is rollin!
1. Chapter 1: Meet Jolene

_Meet Jolene_

_Chapter One of Time To Dance_

_A Fred Weasley Fanfic _

_Happiness Is A Warm Gun Trilogy: Fred/Jolene_

FOR NASEEM

WRITTEN BY EMMY AKA DRUIDIAN.ERA.OF.GOTHS.

Get it right, wenches.

Disclaimer: Hikari Daeron/Druidian.Era.Of.Goths do not own anything Harry Potter, whether it be plots, characters, settings, et cetera. They also doesn't own the song _Time To Dance_ – Panic! At The Disco do. Druidian.Era.Of.Goths also doesn't own Jacklyn Jones, and Fionavar Telrúnya (which was co-created by with Caitlin); Hikari Daeron does. Hikari, on the other hand, doesn't own Jolene Nicholson – Druidian.Era.Of.Goths does. All are used with permission. They also own anything else original, and the plot unrelated to _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_.

This note below is written by Hikari Daeron:

**Note: This is one part of the three-part series called _Happiness Is A Warm Gun_. The three stories take place at the same time (Harry's fourth year), and thus can be read in any order – simultaneously is suggested, as they will be updated at the same time. **

**Each one is about a girl who comes to Hogwarts (whether as a student or guest) who has a complicated background. All three fall in love with three different boys in the school. It goes through the year, showing the girl and her chosen, with complications, of course. They all end up becoming friends (with a few exceptions) and each story ends differently, whether happily or not. Two of the stories are written by me; the third by a friend of mine (AKA THIS FIC) (posted on Quizilla). All three, however, shall appear here on my site – however, I will write a one-shot for whoever goes on my friend's Quizilla site and rates the one that she wrote (the fic shall include you and your favorite character in whatever; more details after this chapter). **

**The three parts to _Happiness Is A Warm Gun _are called _This Nightmare _(George Weasley, written by me), _I Just Want You To Know Who I Am _(Draco Malfoy, written by me) and, my favorite, aka the best one, _Time To Dance _(Fred Weasley, written by Druidian.Era.Of.Goths – as she calls herself on Quizilla).

* * *

**

Jolene Nicholson started unpacking her emotions with as much enthusiasm as a person getting her wisdom teeth pulled. She never really did have much zeal for the idea of dealing with her stepmother and the one bloke her therapist insisted she should start calling 'father'.

"You can't call someone that doesn't give a damn about you father… -Not even dad or pap-sicle…" Jolene mused starting to recall last Wednesday's session. She never did think of a previous sessions' goings on until the week she had to go back and deal with her 'issues'.

"Well what do you intend on calling him, Jo?" asked Dr. Nietzsche (pronounced knee-chi). The slender, blond middle aged woman fumbled with her cheap dollar store spectacles before putting them back on her face.

Jolene simply smiled fickly and rolled her eyes. As tiring and aimless as it was, she enjoyed humoring Nietzsche. The best part of her jest was her father continuously paid for these nonsensical sessions ever since her mother passed away (class four breast cancer, they kinda saw it comin'...). Her father married Victoria Whitaker a few months after that. Jolene had changed a lot from being the bubbly lass she was before.

"Only my friends call me Jo, Doc… and we both know I haven't any so, quit the bloody theatrics." She tilted her head animatedly at that; as if irking Dr. Nietzsche to say something vile in return.

"We've known each other for five years-" started Dr. Nietzsche calmly, but Jolene fiercely cut her off.

"Yes Nietzsche, as of today it has been five wonderful years together. Time does certainly fly, doesn't it? Too bad we don't have anything to show for this momentous occasion other than a rabid bill in celebration of our fabulous visits together," she snapped with a smirk, she continued on standing and getting uncomfortably close to Nietzsche. "It feels like it was just yesterday I was a wee lass unperturbed by menstrual cycles and pornography to come here and talk out 'the cobweb intricacy of my human emotions' (complete with quote-y fingers) and all that other rubbish we both know you don't give a bloody thing about. That's bullocks and we both know it! I'm nowhere close to where an emotionally stable teen is supposed to be without taking up your grand plan of drug induction! FIVE YEARS! WHOOPDY-FRICKIN DOO!"

* * *

**JOLENE'S POV**

Nietzsche got that bloody look in her eyes like I was the funniest little shit ever to be in her presence. I'm sure with the drugs she was thinking about crushing into my food and slipping down my throat as I sleep that I would stop coming around here and be a normal clique following, hair tossing, gossip telling wench. Lovely…

I actually don't have any friends. That's one of the few things that I ever told to that damned doctor that wasn't a lie.

As soon as Mum passed when I was ten and I began school at Beauxbatons, my best friends Paula, Natasha, and Amelie left me forever. It's a bitch to be young and alone, but it does have its random perks. Like on trips to Milan and Canada, I can spend whatever cash amount my "parents" -_estranged fits of coughing_- give to me to spend completely on myself and not have to have the burden of thinking 'Humph. I wonder if they want this or that'. No need to hang in tacky gift shops and buy those lame muggle souvenirs like snow globes from steamy islands, or take advantage of postcard sales… It's so stupid even if I wanted someone to engrain it in their cranial orbit that I had 'fun' on my holidays…

Back to the Beauxbatons crisis. Now I'm home schooled. It does mean I spend a few extra hours barricaded in a room with my demon parents forced to learn otherwise they withhold food and Tivo, but I do get in return what I have been looking forward to the longest time, tickets to the Final of the Quidditch World Cup (sometimes they dangle my ticket over a cliff, far worse than not getting fed!). They also would 'Wingardium Leviosa' it over the fire to get me to learn about the Hundred Wizards' War of the age of Merlin and Salem Witch Trials in America too! Sick isn't it? I wouldn't fit in with those delicate, frighteningly fragile girls that priss around from class to class acting like their shit don't stink.

I'm tall and little lanky except for the fact that my rowing body has brought me the fruits of firm abs, arms and legs. Basically I hoist this large boat sit down with a big arse paddle and row in unison with some old lady screaming and whacking furiously at a drum to keep us synchronized.

I have spiffy green streaks carefully placed in my hair done with the latest in wizarding hair technology. It works so I have these green streaks and my natural hair colour which is jet black. But when the sun hits it, it does this spiffy ass thing that instead of my dark as shit black hair looking blacker it actually makes all my hair look green! The green streaks of course are a little lime green against the jungle green my black hair becomes. But only outside. Only in the sunlight. Aren't I sexy? You want to kiss me, you want to love me! does the -_macarena in head_-.

"Are you even listening to me Jolene?" Dayum, wench! Even when she's bloody angry she has to act all rational and resolute. After these five years it's really starting to put Unforgivable Curses and my wand control on breaking point. Damn her.

"I think the question is: are _you _listening to _me_? Were you ever listening wench?" I raised a single eyebrow in mockery and contempt.

This time the devil woman smirked irksomely… Ick factor number 1000…

I couldn't really tell if she was angry at me or just constipated after having chugged down five mugs of ruddy coffee while therapizing me. I pulled out my wand and started to scratch my head with it. I loved doing it just to tick her off. She told me one day I'd accidentally blast myself into oblivion… but I'm sure she'd enjoy that immensely… then maybe she could spend the rest of her days recovering in St. Mungo's trying to calm her bloody nerves after being in sessions with me… Maybe then someone would be able to change her undergarments after she first wets her combinations…

Ruddy pumpkin head….

"I've been talking with your father Jolene," said Dr. Nietzsche.

"Humph. I'm sure you two had a wonderfully deep conversation followed by nonstop shagging under your desk."

Of course she ignored my surly spat. "He and your stepmother have thought it be best that we discontinue our sessions and your living in residential housing."

"Oh?" I was intrigued now. Our first interesting meeting since I decided to ask about the anatomy of the male reproductive system… it went something like this:

"_Okay, so this is the scrotum," said Nietzsche, completely on edge but trying to hide it._

"_The what?" I said stupidly… I wanted to see her squirm since she makes it so amusing to view anyway._

"_The scrotum Miss Nicholson."_

"_Huh? I don't think I quite understand." -_inside my brain goes into estranged fits of laughter equal to that of someone on marijuana_-_

"_Oh, for God's sake! It's the BALL SACK!" _

"_OH… what does it do?"_

"_Sweet Jesus…" She later went to go slip some gin into her coffee…_

That was fun… he he…

"We think that we should discontinue your home schooling. Even though you are up to curriculum, I think, um, we think it would be prudent for you to be in a more- how did your father say it? Oh! 'Socially stimulating learning environment'."

That sure as shit sounds like my father. "Well doctor, I tried that before. And I failed miserably," I said as I walked over to her desk and played with her rubix cube.

"You have to admit that wasn't one of your father's best ideas after your mother passed away," she said delicately.

"Yes. Among other things…"

"That's why you're going to Hogwarts."

* * *

**DR. NIETZSCHE'S POV**

I saw her eyes widen at that and drop my rubix cube.

That spoiled little wench is finally gonna get her ends. She keeps acting like this is some bloody game and she can just keep starting over if she loses.

"Since when did you too concoct this master plan? Huh? Since day one?" She replied coolly, peering around for unknown content in her purse.

"You're a smart ass enough to know your father loves you. And even if he doesn't care about you, rest assured this of all his ideas has been carefully considered. Today's our last day. Screw the courtesies and suck ups.

"Woo… Hostile aren't we?" Jolene uttered as she gazed up at me in semi-amazement. But then again she kept some of that same expression ever since I broke the school change news to her.

"Sod off. You know, I did suggest you becoming a Durmstrang, but your parents were worried about you being the only lass there and possibly getting date-raped on your week. Frankly, I don't give a damn."

"Oh. Emo tear," Jolene said in mock discontent, making the gesture of a single tear scaling down her jewel-like eyes that resemble carefully formed orbs of topaz, sapphire, and amber. "But you know. I think I can handle this whole arrangement. It might give me a chance to fraternize with more prospective young people like myself. I could turn my life around and stick to long term goals."

"Really?"

"Hell no!" Jolene slipped her Dooney and Bourke purse under her arm and bolted out the door not without sending a raining charm on my entire office, probably ruining my paperwork I had to reprint and file. She slammed the door via charm.

_Only a Nicholson and a Malfoy can get away with undereaged wizardry,_ I fumed to myself.

She's gone. Finally gone. I trudged over, already soggy in my new Bill Blass suit, and clicked into the speaker system.

"Myrna! Send the next patient in. And get a few towels…"

* * *

**JOLENE'S POV**

The bloody wench!

Ugh…

How could they? Who the hell do they think they are!

_Your parents…_

Well other than that! Jeebaz!

_You never know they might be onto something…_

You're not helping douche!

_Why must I fight with myself?_

I was walking down the subway platform and realized the train schedule wasn't due for a few hours due to the Muggle terrorism scare. Damn. They hear a rumor then they just have to shut everything down… Then again. That's better than what the senile minister Fudge did… Now that's a right foul coward.

I went to Porto-Potty and Apparated (as not to frighten the Muggles) to my apartment where I saw my roomies Kayla and David.

"We heard kiddo," said David. I could see in his eyes he was sorry, but that didn't account for the other look he had; the one full of glee that said he'd call my room with the bigger window as soon as I depart.

"How?"

"Nietzsche said she needs you to fill out some crap or something."

"Growl," I said in a deep tone.

"What are you going to do?" asked Kayla.

"I don't know. I mean, I could run, but they planted a tracer in the back of my lower jaw so it'd be pointless."

"There's always a cloaking spell."

"Thanks Dee, but it seems like so much trouble. I'm tired of fighting with people I know jus' suck."

"Then just go."

David and I stared at Kayla.

"Are you high or just incredibly stupid?"

"Well, they'd be paying for it, you'd be away from your bloody parents, plus, I hear them country English blokes get hotter every year! And they have parties that are actually good. Not that rubbish they mix up at your Nicholson Manor every year with only the three of us there! You could even start your own dance school like you always wanted. The other Nicholsons wouldn't be able to stop you cause you'd be away and a legal witch of 17."

"Is it that simple though?"

"Why not?"

God, I hate it when she's right.

* * *

**Continuation of special fic notice:**

**Whoever goes onto and rates the story (quiz) Time To Dance REGULARLY will receive, in reward, a special fic from me.**

**This fic will be in any genre you desire, and can be written about anything (that I know of) with any characters (again, make sure I know them). **

**However, there will be a few specifications I will need:**

**WHAT THE FIC WILL BE BASED OFF OF (ex. HP, YGO, Song of the Lioness, Inuyasha, Eragon, et cetera)**

**WHO THE MAIN CHARACTERS WILL BE (ex. You, Sirius Black, Joey Wheeler, Alanna, Kagome, Brom, et cetera – try not to have too many or it will be too difficult to write; remember this is a ONE-SHOT)**

**WHEN IT TAKES PLACE (i.e. if it's HP, then Harry's fifth year; if it's YGO, before the Ancient Egypt arc; if it's Rent, then before New Years, et cetera)**

**HOW YOU WANT IT TO END (i.e. happy ending, tragedy, something general like that)**

**WHAT GENERAL GENRE YOU WANT IT IN (i.e. make it funny, make it sad, make it angsty/emo-ish)**

**EXAMPLE:**

**I've been regularly going to Druidian.Era.Of.Goths' site and rating Time To Dance. I was wondering if you could write me a story using Rent. I'd like it to show the story of Roger and April before she died. Thanks.**

**Now, let's break it down to show what I was saying:**

**BASED OFF: Rent**

**MAIN CHARACTERS: Roger/April**

**WHEN: Before April's death**

**ENDING: Sad, obviously – 'tis a tragedy!**

**GENRE: Drama**

**If some of the stuff is obvious (i.e. ending/genre), then don't worry about it.**

**Don't keep it restricted to this – put as much info as you like!**

_**Hope that perks your interests!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Wheezes And Muggle Coupons

_Wheezes And Muggle Coupons_

_Chapter Two of Time To Dance_

_A Fred Weasley Fanfic_

_Happiness Is A Warm Gun Trilogy: Fred/Jolene_

FOR NASEEM

WRITTEN BY EMMY AKA DRIUDIAN.ERA.OF.GOTHS.

Get it right, wenches.

Disclaimer: Hikari Daeron/Druidian.Era.Of.Goths do not own anything Harry Potter, whether it be plots, characters, settings, et cetera. They also doesn't own the song _Time To Dance_ – Panic! At The Disco do. Druidian.Era.Of.Goths also doesn't own Jacklyn Jones, and Fionavar Telrúnya (which was co-created by with Caitlin); Hikari Daeron does. Hikari, on the other hand, doesn't own Jolene Nicholson – Druidian.Era.Of.Goths does. All are used with permission. They also own anything else original, and the plot unrelated to _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_.

This note below is written by Hikari Daeron. It shall appear on every chapter here-on-out:

Note: This is one part of the three-part series called _Happiness Is A Warm Gun_. The three stories take place at the same time (Harry's fourth year), and thus can be read in any order – simultaneously is suggested, as they will be updated at the same time.

Each one is about a girl who comes to Hogwarts (whether as a student or guest) who has a complicated background. All three fall in love with three different boys in the school. It goes through the year, showing the girl and her chosen, with complications, of course. They all end up becoming friends (with a few exceptions) and each story ends differently, whether happily or not. Two of the stories are written by me; the third by a friend of mine (AKA THIS FIC) (posted on Quizilla). All three, however, shall appear here on my site – however, I will write a one-shot for whoever goes on my friend's Quizilla site and rates the one that she wrote (the fic shall include you and your favorite character in whatever; more details after this chapter).

The three parts to _Happiness Is A Warm Gun _are called _This Nightmare _(George Weasley, written by me), _I Just Want You To Know Who I Am _(Draco Malfoy, written by me) and, my favorite, aka the best one, _Time To Dance _(Fred Weasley, written by Druidian.Era.Of.Goths – as she calls herself on Quizilla).

* * *

"Goddamit!"

"What?"

"Bleh!" exclaimed George as he regurgitated one of his concoctions gone sour, so to speak.

"Boys! You had better not be working on your ruddy _joke shop _again! If I see another false wand hanging about it's going to be no Quidditch World Cup for the lot of you!"

There was a sudden eerie silence that consumed the Burrow even up to the creaky bedroom/joke shop testing lab of Fred and George Weasley. This was uncommon, but with half a dozen people inhabiting the complex, it would be queerer _if nothing _at all strange occurred within that time.

The twin, handsome, smecksy as hell, ginger-haired boys scurried to put away all of the contraband that could possibly put them in a further rut then what they were accustomed to: fake wands, two ton tongue formula in the making, candy that does things candy just isn't supposed to do, you get the idea.

* * *

**FRED'S POV**

I heard Mum's distinctive footsteps as she waddled up to our room. If she saw all this stuff just lying around we'd end up de-gnoming the garden until judgment day.

With nearly everything put away George pulled out the 6th year level books we picked up for class and sat down on the nearest bed. In record time, Mum burst into our room and had this look in her eyes, like she wanted nothing else but to find out what forbidden activity we gotten ourselves into this time.

"And that is how babies are born dear ole Fred," said my brother patting my arm. I followed his lead.

"But I still don't know if I understand completely Georgie. Can you start again from the beginning? Oh, and while you're at it, why don't we add in some visuals?" I loved doing this to Mum, the look on her face was always priceless, only this time she seemed more distraught then usual.

George flipped through his book with an amused look on his face. "Aha!" He pointed to an image, which was actually of a rare phoenix only found in the south of France on certain seasons.

"Um. Um, okay I see…" I was really acting like there was some kind of diagram aiding in my learning of baby-making.

"You boys aren't up to anything are you?" Mum continued to scan the room and peak through little corners hoping to find a trinket or five-day-grow troll. (It's simple: soak it in water for five days and on day five, the troll becomes life size until the water drains out. Then it shrinks back- nifty thing- until it shoots a hole through you ceiling with its nasty head).

"Us?" I uttered with a look of shock. I threw my hand to my forehead animatedly. "Please do not insult our boyish innocence!" I heard George snicker in the background. I threw a pillow at his head.

"Alright now, settle down," replied Mum huffily. I don't even think that I'm going to be able to let this go. I don't see it."

"See what, Mum?"

"Oh you know bloody well what!" Whoa. She was angrier than her usual self.

"Well, there isn't any around so you're not going to find it. Even if there _was _something ominous about our living quarters…" George said, getting up and shutting the Transfiguration book closed.

"Right you are my dear George. You know Mum; you need to have more faith in your children. I mean, Percy goes off and became Head Boy, now the rest of us have to live with all this bloody competition in the air. It's unsettling. Why can't we all live happily and in harmony?"

Humph, well that was partly true.

Stupid Percy just had to go and bloody ruin it for us all by being so perfect, and becoming a ruddy prefect. It all started there, and then he just upped the voltage by being even more of a suck-up in class and becoming Head Boy… Every time George and I would prank someone, it was, 'Oh Percy is so bloody wonderful. Why can't you be like him? Everyone lets just kiss Percy's ass!' WHOOPDY-FRICKIN-DOO!

"Oh. Well, I need to get finished on dinner. Harry should be arriving soon, will you see to it that he's made comfortable?"

"Sure. You know we should really turn our lives around Mum; let's just bake Harry a batch of scones to force down his throat to make sure he feels bloody welcome!"

"Yip!" we said in unison with a high five. How I love the devious twin thing George and I have.

Mum just shook her head and bustled herself out of our room and slammed the door.

"Man that was a close one," said George, moving towards the closet.

"You could say that again, mate," I said, equally relieved.

"Man, that was a close one," said George.

"You dipshit!" I said, throwing a pillow at his head.

"Dammit, do you want Mum to come back in here and find out about what we're really up to?"

"Do you?"

"Stupid us and our mind games...What did Mum ever do to get such wonderful children?"

"Just luck, I guess?"

I shoved George over. Just by opening the door slightly out of the closet tumbled all of our joke shop stuff. It was compendium of crap askew on our floor. Being in the presence of it all made me relive the one moment when Mum was really upset at us for stealing Dad's flying car, but it was for the betterment of mankind (or Harry at least). Not as mad, however, as when Ron had to go and crash it into the Whomping Willow and make it run off into the Forbidden Forest. Now that was the highest point of angry, but that will compare to a smile and a brownie if she sees our Weasley Wizard Wheezes products here!

"How can we hide it? I mean, Mum could very well just sneak in here when we're off to the Cup and scurry around," I said.

"True mate. Maybe if we asked Ron, we could store it in his room for those few days we're at the Cup. Then we can move it back to our dormitory in Hogwarts," suggested my twin.

"But Ron is not about to take the blame if Mum decides to clean out his bloody room." Damn his lazy-ass lack of room-cleanliness!

"What about Ginny?"

"Nay, Hermione will be bunking with her. I don't hate Hermione; it's just that she's got such a smart girl complex. If she were to find out that she had to help hide our stuff then she might well turn us in!"

"No man! Hermione wouldn't do that! She's not the same ole squealing, uptight wench she was in first year, not even…"

I really hadn't associated myself much with the girl much. All I know is she can't be that bad to have my younger brother Ron totally infatuated with her. It's sad at times. We really should stop reading Ron's journal every time he thinks he has got a right safe hiding place for it.

"Then what? You're not helping to keep us going to the Cup by knocking all my brilliant ideas," retorted my dear brother.

"Well, we could cast a shrinking spell, and ask Harry to put it in his trunk as he will bring it with him since he'll be leaving for Hogwarts with us. When we get settled into our dorms that night, we can slink back into the Gryffindor Common Room and get our stuff, reverse the spell in our room and be back in business." I love it when I'm the smart-ass twin!

George grimaced in discontent. "Why did you make me go through all those bloody ideas when you had a good one all along?"

"It makes you look like your brain works bloke," I said patting his arm with a smirk equal to Draco Malfoy.

"Damn you ruddy sod," said George pulling out his wand and with a swish and flick, our load of joke products were the size of McDonald's Happy Meal toys (Harry made us go once on a trip into London).

I motioned back toward the bottom bunk bed and pulled out a box from beneath it. In it were more of our joke items that went wrong and were beyond repair. I tossed them out the window, put the shrunken items inside, and covered them.

"All we can do now is wait for the bloke to show up. When should he be arriving?" I asked.

"Humph. Just listen for when Mum gets all loud and hysterical and when you can hear love emanating from all parts of her."

We laughed. It's much funnier when our jokes are based on the truth. But really. Mum did love Harry Potter like he was one of the lot of us, I wouldn't mind at all if he ended up moving in. I'm sure little Ronald would love it more if it were the Granger girl. He might actually pass out if Mum broke the news to us:

_Mum: Kids, I have important news!_

_Ginny: What is it Mum?_

_George: We're going to visit Charlie in Romania this Christmas?_

_Mum: No._

_Me: Well. Then, it's not that good of an announcement._

_Mum: -_evil glare_- No, no, actually, HERMIONE'S MOVING IN WITH US!_

_Ron: What? Huh? What? collapse_

_Me: Whoa. I guess this _was_ a good news bulletin. Come on you big horny baby. -_smacks Ron's profusely_-_

"Yeah…" I said aloud with a grin on my face.

"You're daydreaming about Ron finding out Hermione's bunking with us again aren't you?"

Damn. My bro knows me too well…

"Maybe…" I said… I did the typical shifty eye thing…

"You're just jealous, dude," George said, moving to our personal bathroom.

"Jealous? Jealous of what? Passing out due to hormonal overload?"

"No! Hermione and Ron may end up living happily ever after come the day our dear younger brother grows some balls and tells her straight out 'Hermione I love you, let's snog!'" exclaimed George, going on bended knee and flailing his arms around excessively.

"Yes, those will be his exact words and I will from that day forward plot to steal the frizzy haired vixen away from my squatty younger brother."

But when George did lay it out, I was a little upset. Why did all my relationships end in ass? I mean, I think I'm a right fine bloke. So why did girls leave me by running away in tears shouting 'you bloody jackass!'? I only put a little laughing serum in their tea or gave them sour candy when they thought they were getting finest Belgian imported chocolates. I was funny, and never cheated or shagged or snogged with other lasses behind their backs.

"Hey Fred. Don't look so down I was just kidding."

"Nah man. I think some of that potion I was on in the hospital is starting to get to me," I lied.

"Sure bro." My twin knows when I'm lying. We only know and exercise limits of personal space and joking with each other.

"Hey, you'll definitely feel right better by the time we get to the Cup," said my brother encouragingly.

"It better get bloody better butter."

"Congrats bro that made no damn sense!"

We started to throw random objects at each other laughing hysterically.

Once again there was noise in the Burrow.

* * *

Continuation of special fic notice:

Whoever goes onto and rates the story (quiz) Time To Dance REGULARLY will receive, in reward, a special fic from me.

This fic will be in any genre you desire, and can be written about anything (that I know of) with any characters (again, make sure I know them).

However, there will be a few specifications I will need:

WHAT THE FIC WILL BE BASED OFF OF (ex. HP, YGO, Song of the Lioness, Inuyasha, Eragon, et cetera)

WHO THE MAIN CHARACTERS WILL BE (ex. You, Sirius Black, Joey Wheeler, Alanna, Kagome, Brom, et cetera – try not to have too many or it will be too difficult to write; remember this is a ONE-SHOT)

WHEN IT TAKES PLACE (i.e. if it's HP, then Harry's fifth year; if it's YGO, before the Ancient Egypt arc; if it's Rent, then before New Years, et cetera)

HOW YOU WANT IT TO END (i.e. happy ending, tragedy, something general like that)

WHAT GENERAL GENRE YOU WANT IT IN (i.e. make it funny, make it sad, make it angsty/emo-ish)

EXAMPLE:

I've been regularly going to Druidian.Era.Of.Goths' site and rating Time To Dance. I was wondering if you could write me a story using Rent. I'd like it to show the story of Roger and April before she died. Thanks.

Now, let's break it down to show what I was saying:

BASED OFF: Rent

MAIN CHARACTERS: Roger/April

WHEN: Before April's death

ENDING: Sad, obviously – 'tis a tragedy!

GENRE: Drama

If some of the stuff is obvious (i.e. ending/genre), then don't worry about it.

Don't keep it restricted to this – put as much info as you like!

_Hope that perks your interests!_


End file.
